


Believe Me

by A_Fanfic_Poster



Category: Shatter Me Series - Tahereh Mafi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29814705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fanfic_Poster/pseuds/A_Fanfic_Poster
Summary: Alternate ending stemming from Imagine Me.Juliette Ferrars is stuck in limbo, stumbling into a new life while her old one crumbles around her. A boy named Aaron tells her that they are engaged to be married, but just as they meet she is given a dying mission to kill him.Meanwhile, everybody around her is reeling from the boy she is saved with, a boy named Adam. And Kenji, who is desperately trying to get Juliette to remember this past life of hers, is struggling with his own issues as well.It seems like everyone around her is barely holding it together and Juliette doesn't if she even /wants/ to go back to this past life of hers.
Relationships: Juliette Ferrars/Aaron Warner, Nazeera Ibrahim/Kenji Kishimoto
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I chapter 1 is now re-edited to make it more concise :) hope you enjoy!

**Aaron**

I ran into an empty, concrete room, ducking under a heap of metal Ella threw at my head. 

_ No, not Ella. Not even Juliette. This is some tainted person inhabiting her body.  _

Her energy is all off too. I feel it, confusion being masked under complete rage, and for the first time I genuinely don’t know how to interpret them, to interpret her. 

_ God, _ I wish I could just hold her, look into her eyes and have her just  _ know _ that it’s me. Now I feel completely powerless, like when she first met me since her isolation. Like I was scum to her.

She’s in the room, holding herself steady and staring at me with death in her eyes, and I could tell it was true then, that they did make her some super-soldier; even after running for over a mile through the maze of the building, her breath is hardly ragged, and already she’s holding her hands up, ready to fight.

“Who,” she glares at me and clenches her fists “are you?”

I ignore her, “Love, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to fight.  _ Please _ -”

She throws another object at me and I narrowly dodge. I don’t break eye contact as it bursts against the wall behind me, showering me in debris. My heart hums. She’s staring at me, another emotion arising beneath her skin. Curiosity.

“What’s your name? Why does Anderson care so much about you?”

In an instant, I fill the distance between us, my hands on her wrists, gentle enough not to hurt her. “Love,” I say, breath hitched from being so close to her, so close since the last time we saw each other, “you know my name,” I say, voice sounding a bit more desperate than I intend, “tell me you know my name.”

She stares at me, eyes wide, and I dip down to whisper at her neck. 

She must, if anything, remember our love, right? Blossoming beneath our skin, from where our skin touches? Surely her soul couldn’t be completely overcome, especially not by my father’s haphazard attempt to rewrite her mind in less than a day. I grip a bit harder. It’s not the first time we’ve remembered our love. She must not have forgotten.

She freezes and gasps at my touch, and her hands go slack, loosening their tension under mine. I pull back, and she only takes half a second before using a hand to lean the back of my head into hers, and pushes our lips together. 

_ Wow.  _ I missed her, I miss her, and I know no matter how close we will ever be, I will always be missing her. I know that now, just as I've known it always. I’m pushing her up against the wall in a way that says  _ I won’t leave you again, I won’t lose you again _ . 

She remembers, I think, just like I remember, and quickly I’m overcome by the image of us, interlocked until the day we die, growing old with each other and I have to tell her, I have to tell her now before-

I gasp, I groan, I stumble back. A sharp pain at my side is growing, not quite yet unbearable. Ella straightens as she watches me, her face immediately resuming the cold, empty look of a soldier. She stands as if mocking me, mocking my blind love. My stupidity.

I touch my side and look down, and my hands look as if I’ve dipped them in blood. And, I have, from what I see. 

My shirt is torn, and blood begins to paint my contents. I look for the weapon of her choice.

It’s a small silver dagger, with which she is now using her shirt to wipe off the excess, before slipping it back into her boot. 

Of course my father would provide her with multiple means of execution. He wasn’t unaware of my power, he knew that I could block any of her blows. He must even have known that my blind love would cause me to stumble into a stupor, to forget what I’d learned from him.

My dad had stabbed me hundreds, if not thousands of times to prepare me for my time at war, but never did I expect this type of pain, the pain of heartache, of understanding. No ounce of Ella, the  _ real _ Ella would ever do this to me, and for that it hurts worse than any other type of pain. Knowing that she is well and truly gone. Knowing that my father had sent her here, and my fathers control over her outweighed our love. And she was so empty, so devoid of emotion, she would stand there and watch me die, no memory of our life together.

I kneel over, getting on my knees as if to alleviate the pain cascading from the mark through my entire body. Ella gets on her knees as well, and I think,  _ maybe there’s a little left to her, maybe this was a way to get my father off her tracks…. Maybe- _

She holds me by the shoulders, and leans my ear close to her lips. I’m panting at the way this spurts a fresh coat of red over my fingers, and close my eyes.

“I could watch you die standing up,” she whispers, “but I’d much rather not give you the mercy of your pride. For Anderson.”

I open my eyes and stare at her in shock, knowing finally that I’ve lost her. Ella is gone. And maybe, if I could just forget my heartache, I could fight her to the ground, but I won’t. I won’t fight against her. And I can’t. I can’t for the life of me, admit to myself what this is doing to me, watching my world and my life crumble.

She makes eye contact with me, and I feel as if the second lasts forever as I search her for something more, something I won’t find. Then, as her eyes widen, I realize the second  _ has _ lasted too long, that this new Ella wouldn’t wait so long to insult me the way my father taught her, with no pride or mercy.

Her arms go slack, losing their grip as she loses consciousness and falls into me, nearly knocking me over and sending a fresh spark of pain through my skin. 

Suddenly, Nazeera and Kenji blink into view, both staring intently at me as the syringe drops to the ground.

  
  
  


**Kenji**

I’ll admit, in any other situation of finding Warner stabbed and increasingly paling, I would’ve used every second to make fun of him. Obviously, he can’t be annoyed to the point of hurting me if he can barely move, so it seemed like a good plan on my part. Unfortunately right now, my humor has all but drained. 

It turns out Nazeera had to learn all about medical care when her parents trained her, so while she was suturing up a swearing Warner, I took his unconscious, sedated fiancee back to the medical wing where we found the syringe. I switched off my emotions a while ago, so when I placed her on the empty cot next to Adam, I only thought that it would be  _ incredibly _ hard to carry them both back onto the plane.

_ Shit _ , the plane. We’re gonna need to find another escape plan. While I’m sure Nazeera found another plane to hijack (I would never doubt her master mind), we have multiple things to work out besides that.

First, the escape plan. Second, the dozen kids we have to relocate now that we know their parents are hellbent on killing them. Third, and completely accomplishable, is getting Kent out of all these tubes on him.

After pacing for a couple minutes, trying to get all my energy to slow down, I decide on getting Kent up and ready. If anything, it’ll be one less body to carry to the plane.

I begin pulling the multicolored tubes haphazardly, first the red wired one coiled into a drip bag, then the clear plastic one which seems to transport his blood into a big, white metal box. Then, I realize how much time it’s wasting to analyze each one and start pulling them out randomly and dropping them to the floor. And, it’s going well, until the heart monitor starts beating rapidly, and the tube with the blood starts piling out onto the floor.

_ Shit again _ . Should’ve had Nazeera deal with this.

“What are you doing?” Nazeera is standing against the doorframe. Or at least, I assume she is, because that’s where her voice is coming from. I guess Warner is standing behind her, by the labored breathing coming from that direction. 

“I… I was just, you know,” 

She blinks into view and stalks over to me and I jump out of the way as she reapplies the tubes into Adam’s skin. His heartbeat returns to normal. The blood stays untouched on the ground. 

“I was  _ trying _ to do that,” I sulked half-jokingly.

“I’m sure,” She looked at me, her lips in a thin line. Okay, I guess she isn’t having it today. Totally understandable. 

I instead turn in Warner’s direction, where he’s still invisible. Even when he’s unseen, even without the ability to see people’s emotions, I can tell he’s barely holding it together. Thinking better than saying anything to him, I turn my attention back to Nazeera.

“So, have we got a plan?” 

“ _ I _ have a plan,” she says drily. So she does still have jokes, which gives me a beat of satisfaction. “Keep the tubes on him, and we’ll take the whole thing back to the twins so they can figure out what it all means. You can do objects as well, right?” She gestures to Adam and his bulky bed and medical-ware, referring to my abilities to make people invisible

I hadn’t, but now is a good time as any to figure that out. It would, I feel, be the same as doing bulky jewelry or a handheld device not necessarily attached to the person. 

She continues: “Juliette should be fine until we get back. I told Warner where to go to get another hijacked plane, so you guys go while I get rid of the bodies we’ve accumulated and tell everybody else what’s up. I’d say wait 20 for me, then go. I’ll find my own way otherwise.”

Damn, she really does have everything figured out. I overcome the urge to lean down and kiss her right as she blinks out again and the door swings away. 

I look over to Warner, who came into view sometime during Nazeera’s speech. His body looks hollowed out, and his skin pales more by the minute. I have a sudden inkling that he may not be looking like that just because he’s hurt physically. Sure, that would account for his short breath, but not the way his skin seems to hang low on his bones, his eyes even lower. 

I don’t want to say anything that will set him off, so I settle on taking the drips around Adam and carefully putting them on his bed, then unplugging the heart monitor and releasing the connection to his finger. I thankfully don’t disrupt his homeostasis, and besides for the flatlining heart monitor, everything seems to be working out as expected. 

All the while, Warner stands by J, pushing stray strands of hair away from her unconscious face. He droops over her, and if he whispers something or kisses her, I’ll never know, because he catches me staring and pulls a blanket of invisibility over them. 

I unlock the wheels on the bed, and push it to the doorway. I take a deep breath, focusing my invisibility on the bed. It takes a couple seconds, but they were seconds I already wasted when I took my time to let Warner focus on Juliette. Finally it fades out, feeling like I’m holding a weight ball above my head. Not yet is it hard to keep it under control, but I know the more time I take the harder it will be. 

“Come on, pretty boy,” I say, pushing the bed against the door to open it up, “we’ll have time to wallow later.”

He scowls in my invisible direction, then I hear his laboured steps as he dips in front of me and shoves the bed out of his way. 

I pant as we reach the plane, dropping my invisibility almost immediately. Shit, Warner’s fast when he’s angry, and it was hard enough trying to follow him only by the sound of his steps. At one point, I swear he ran when I accidentally hit his heels with the bed one too many times. 

Nazeera shows up a short time later, and in no time we’re already up in the air, back to the others. Nazeera absolutely refused to let Warner stay up front with her despite his protests that he needed a distraction. Now, he’s pacing back and forth, purposefully avoiding J, ignoring me. For a bit I consider talking to him, before I realize that’s exactly the opposite of what he ever wants, so instead I go to the cockpit to see Nazeera. 

“Hey,” she says, clicking a couple buttons before taking her hands off the controls and turning towards me. She’s smiling, oh my god, and she looks absolutely gorgeous.

I stare at her for a bit, probably looking incredibly goofy, before realizing to have conversations I do, in fact, have to speak. I go for a solid, effective, “hey”.

She narrows her eyes, “how’s Warner doing? And everybody else?”

I run a hand through my hair. “I mean, J’s still sedated. I guess Adam is too, but I think the twins will know what’s up with him. James will be happy at least. And Warner is… the worst I’ve ever seen him.” I rub my eyes and my face, before realizing that this is terrible for Nazeera. Nazeera  _ just _ had her father die, her old best friend die, her  _ other _ old best friend completely transformed into an evil supersoldier, and she’s had to hold out to talk to all her friends, to be the mastermind to get us all home.  _ God, she’s  _ so  _ amazing. _

“How are you?” She asks, because she’s perfect and completely selfless.

“How are  _ you?” _ I retort instead, breaking the distance between us. She stands up and matches me.

“I’m… holding on. As much as I can.”

I stay silent. What can I say?

“Thanks, by the way,” she steps closer to me, and suddenly my heart’s beating a lot faster than I would like.  _ Not. The. Time. _

I guess it is that time though, because she pulls my head into hers, and we dip into a soft, amazing kiss. It’s not desperate, not brave. If anything, it’s vulnerable, and if anything, that’s even better. It feels safe, for both of us. And I pull her close into me, tightly holding her in my arms, and I hear her choke out a sob. I pull back from the kiss, and pull her even closer to me, if that’s possible. She lays her head against my chest, and we stay like that for a while, silent. Until my shirt is soaked through and my muscles are clenched so hard they’re bound to hurt tomorrow. I don’t stop until she pulls away, sniffles and pulls her sleeve across her face, and resumes her normal, hard exterior. She takes a deep breath, looks up at me and nods, and turns back to the control panel. I turn away, knowing that she needs to be alone, and walk to the  _ other _ person that also needs to be alone. 

I hope that at least Warner will make some snarky comment about my dripping shirt, just to know that there’s still some part of him left, but when I get back, he’s definitely not his usual self. No.

Warner is, if my eyes don’t deceive me, sleeping. 

In all my life, of running into J’s and his bedroom, I have never seen him sleep. I assumed he was a vampire or some sort of mutant that didn’t need any to stay alive, but there he is, at the foot of Juliette’s makeshift bed, head in his arms and eyes closed, unconscious. 

_ God, _ I could make  _ so many _ good jokes about this, but I stop myself knowing today is probably the worst day of everybody’s life. I guess I’m just gonna have to pretend this entire plane ride didn’t happen, and to be honest, I don’t think I even want to remember. I’m not letting myself feel unhopeful about Adam or J or Nazeera or Warner or anyone, but I can feel the life slowly draining out of me. Now that I think about it, sleep doesn’t even feel like a bad thing.

_ In fact,  _ I think as I find a nice chair to settle in and close my eyes, _ I’m exhausted _ .

I’m not even giving myself enough time to think about if this is a good idea, to think or worry about anything, as I let the lull of the plane quickly draw me asleep.

  
  


**Juliette** **//** **Ella** **// Juliette**

_ I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a notebook I stole a  _

_ There’s a mirror, and there are hundreds of me staring back at me. And I look at me, and all of me looks back. So _

_ Who am I? _

  
  


**Adam**

……… 


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody, chapter 2 is now re-edited as well, so I'll be back soon with new chapters again :).

**Aaron**

I wake up -  _ when did I go to sleep? - _ and the twins are staring down at me. 

I move to stand up, before remembering my side. My side, which, when I put my hand over it, does not seem to hurt anymore.

“I… I… Thanks,” I say quickly, trying to collect myself. This is not the way to present myself, and I’m overcome with a rare case of embarrassment. I guess everybody’s gonna watch me fall apart now. 

They put their arms on me and try to pull me into a hug, but I shrug them off. “I have to go. Where’s… where’s Ella?” I look around at my surroundings, only to realize I’m in a bed in an empty room of the medical wing. The bright, clean walls of the room contrast deeply with the silver medical-ware along a shelf in the corner, and the suture materials that are lined across a sink lines the wall. Above the sink is a medical cabinet with a mirror, which distorts my face.

They watch me observe, and wait for me to pull my attention back to them before I continue. 

“They’re in a separate part of the medical wing.. We decided it might be better to fix you here. You were sleeping and very tense and….” They let their words fall away.

“I… ok.” I feel confused, more confused now than ever. Was everything just a dream? Is Ella okay? Is she back to her old self? Maybe I just fell and hit my head…?

I feel their pity and I hate it, so I sit up straight and will myself to get control. 

“I just need a minute alone,” I tell them, hoping that they’ll just leave without a checkup, without wasting time.

“Yes, of course. Please just find us when you’re ready, we’ll be….” Sonya falters.

“In either Juliette or Adam’s room. You can call Kenji to get us,” Sara finishes. With that, they both give me a slight nod and leave, softly closing the door behind them. 

I wait a couple more seconds, before swinging my feet over the side of the bed, and turning to sit directly across from the sink. I rub my hands through my hair, my face, my eyes, then make eye contact with my distorted mirror-face. 

I look like a child again, with the lines of exhaustion etching into my face and painting dark circles under my eyes. My hair feels and looks dirty from sweat and muck. And, even worse, I can feel my emotions seeping through my skin, creating a pool around my feet. 

I lift up my shirt, and all that remains of my previous fight is a thin pink scar, from my ribs to slightly below my belly button. If anything, it looks like a misplaced appendix scar.

I stand and step closer to the mirror, watching the way my body weakly limps, and I pull a hand out to touch my reflection. I glide across the smooth silver, and then push my hand forward to leave marks across it, tainting the cleanliness of the room. 

As I do, a pressure switch in the cabinet releases, and it opens smoothly to a variety of different colored containers for pills and medication. My eye spots a familiar looking orange bottle, and in a haze I take it, open it up and spill its contents into my palm. Then, I take a shaky breath, quickly and haphazardly placing the bottle back on the shelf, before closing my one hand into a tight fist. I return the room to roughly normal, closing the cabinet and spreading my bedsheets, before half running out the room, narrowly avoiding Sonya and Sara, until I reach the comfort of my own quarters. 

I sit on the edge of the bed, opening my palm and staring at the three small, bright-blue pills. I’ve seen these before. Hell, I’ve  _ used _ these before. Strong painkiller and sleep pills when I was weak with my father. The only respite to his abuse was, after he became bored and sick with me, would let me limp back to my room. I would basically crawl into my bathroom, using the sink as support as I opened the cabinet behind the mirror and fishing out a bottle of pills I stole from my mother. On the worst days, I would take four, maybe five at a time before giving in to their effects and sliding down across the tiles, before my eyes would slide shut.

I swore them away a while ago, when my addiction got so bad my father forced me to take all the remaining pills from my mother and throw them away, while watching her slowly succumb to her deep, deep agony. 

Since then, I promised I would never steal.

But now… now. Now, I am emotionless. Now, I am nothing. 

I shove them in my mouth and bite down hard as I swallow them hard. I lean down on my bed and wait for the pills to work, wondering if they do anything for heartache.

_ Swimming head, head swimming. _

_ I’m in bed, and I’m 14. Is head pounding? I can’t tell. Only a dull, bearable pressure on my head. I’m sleeping on my stomach, my back is riddled with whip marks. Or knife marks? One of the two.  _

A knock on the door, feels like dripping wax. I’m going down a rabbit hole. I don’t like being in control. Another knock, and leave me alone. 

_ Ella is staring at me, and her eyes are bleeding.  _

_ “Are you real?” I ask, I try to touch her face but I go through. _

_ She doesn’t speak. _

_ “Are you going to be okay?” _

_ She doesn’t speak. She is melting and melting and melting and I can’t help her. Will she stop bleeding? Ella, will you stop bleeding? Will you stop melting? _

There is a person in my room, or a shadow. I am sitting up and there is something cold pushing down my throat and then I am back down and something heavy is covering my and there are fingers on my forehead and there is a song, or some words, that are being said.

_ My father is leaning over me. And he is spewing lava at me from his mouth and I’m too tired to wipe it off so it burns through my skin.  _

_ He is disappointed, disappointed, disappointed.  _

_ Take control, takecontroltakecontrolcontrolcontrol. _

_ And I will. Take control. _

My skin is freezing as I wake up submerged underwater. Gasping and confused, I rush to the surface, choking on swallowed water and fighting for control. My hands grip the edges of porcelain as I lift myself and my sopping clothes out of a small tub.

“What,” I say in between gasps, wildly scanning my surroundings for the perpetrator, “the  _ fu- _ ”

“Hey,” I hear Kishimoto say, elongating the syllable as if consoling a puppy, “welcome back pretty boy.”

He comes into focus, flashing a bright, overcompensating smile, and I narrow my eyes, thinking of the most effective ways of murdering him. I come to just fifty ways before he speaks again.

“Bro, chill. We all thought you were dead, and I was the only one brave enough to come and conquer you. You’ve been out for, like, forever at this point. Do you even know what you took? Sonya says that shit could kill you, slow your heart to death or something.”

I grip the edges of the bath harder until my knuckles turn white, and hoist myself out, dripping over the tiles. I could tell him that, actually, I am very well aware of the pills, but I can’t expose myself to him any more than I already have. Kishimoto has seen me in less-than-ideal circumstances, and at this point, I need all the professionalism of a commander to get back his respect and my control.  _ Control. _

“You should’ve known better than to shove me in an ice bath,” I tell him, while he assumes the position of a deer attempting to fight, futily. I continue: “I can think of a hundred different ways to end your life in this room alone. Not to mention you invaded my private quarters.”

He widens his eyes before blinking out of existence, “hell man, I wasn’t trying to cause any trouble. I was gonna wait till you got all proper and whatever, but to be honest from the way you were laying there, I thought you were dead. Plus, everybody’s been having these serious conversations and I just barely got their permission to give me thirty minutes to get you to join. They all wanna make decisions about your fiance-”

“ _ What _ about Ella? Tell me now.”

“ _ Shit _ , man, I was  _ getting _ to it. They’re deciding how to go about her new… transformation, I guess. That’s why we need you. I assumed you wanted a say.” 

I stare in his general direction, face carefully revealing no emotion, save for my narrowed eyes. 

“So, like, finish your bath or whatever, get a coffee, and meet us by the medical wing when you’re ready. I left some stuff on your table. I literally just got you thirty minutes to get there, and that’s it.” 

I take a breath, take it all in. “Give me fifteen.”

With that, the door of the bathroom opened and, as if Kishimoto was sprinting so as not to disrespect my bedroom, quickly did my adjoining bedroom door as well. 

I sigh, pulling off my wet clothes and chucking them into the nearby hamper, briefly missing Delalieu and his daily laundry runs as they fall with a wet thump. I pull the drain out of the tub, waiting for the water to recede before turning on the shower to let the spray warm up.

Back in my room, I pull out some clothes, not bothering with the long, tedious process of picking something out, and rather opting for my simple, militaristic wear. On the bedside table sits three bottles of water, some aspirin, some dry biscuits, and some various other items that I assume Kishimoto only put there because he enjoyed the liberty of being in my room and wanted to extend his stay. 

I grab the aspirin and a water, downing them as I go back to the shower. Finally under the steaming water, I refuse to give myself any time for anything but washing myself. No wallowing, no exhaustion, no thinking about…. No. Wash hair, scar, hands, face, arms, legs, torso, until I feel raw.

I get the feeling that I blacked out as I pull my clothes on, not really knowing how long I was in the shower for. I decide not to look at the clock, hoping that I remain punctual, and walk with the air of a commander as I go to meet Kishimoto and the others. 

Turns out, I should’ve just stayed in my bed. 

I guess I wasn’t as punctual as I expected, as they’re already arguing when I get to the small makeshift meeting space, adjacent to the offices and medical wing. I narrowly avoided both, instead opting for the roundabout entrance to avoid anybody looking after Ella.

Nouria, Sam, Sonya, and Sara stand on one side, with Nouria spewing some unintelligible words, while Castle stands next to Nazeera and Kishimoto, who not-so-subtly have their pinkies intertwined. They part as they notice me, giving me access to the circle. Everyone is tense.

“All I’m saying,” Nouria closes her argument, “ is that it’ll be more efficient and effective - for  _ both _ of us - if we give her the-”

“ _ Nouria _ ,” Castle says, and she quiets as she seems to finally acknowledge my presence.

“Anyone care to fill me in?” The tension in the room spikes. Nouria sucks her teeth, and looks at me. 

“I believe I should begin. I think we should utilize Ella’s powers while we can. Obviously, at the moment, we are working on getting her old self back, but that won’t work if she’s constantly trying to murder anybody she believes is against Anderson. I’m working with our military team to create a plausible story that we are working in favor of Anderson, and that it was his wish that if he were compromised, she would work with us. 

“Not only can we capitalize on her abilities, especially as we navigate through the fall of the Reestablishment, it will allow her to build trust among us, and possibly bring her back to herself without medication.” 

If anything, I’ll give Nouria the benefit of her terseness. I would’ve liked her as second in command when I led my portion of the war. She betrayed no empathy or sympathy.

She takes a breath and stares at her father, obviously waiting for Castle’s rebuttal. He stares at me, with a look that tells me he’s not his daughter’s father, and begins.

“I think that… I think that a more  _ effective _ approach would be jumpstarting her older memories. Using her as a military weapon will only get us so far, and even then, we would be relying on the fact that first, she believes us, and second, that nobody betrays the truth. The stakes are too high and too thin for that to be a reliable method.

“We all know that the work that was done was hurried, and done by a crazed and debilitating man,” Castle pauses for just long enough to glance at me, and I give away nothing, “and maybe reminding her of these situations, placing her back into confinement, for example, could quickly remind her of who she is.”

Just as Castle finishes, Kishimoto takes an exasperated sigh and unhooks his hand from Nazeera’s, running it through his hair. “What the  _ fuck _ is going on?!” He’s just below yelling range.

“J is not a military weapon, and no, we are not placing her  _ back into torture _ to get her to remember her old self. Did you all forget that, even as a supersoldier she’s still human? There’s still some Juliette left in there! I’m not gonna let you guys experiment on her!” He huffs, which personally seems childish, but everybody else seems taken aback. I guess Kishimoto is meant to be the humorous peacekeeper, and now, for the first time, they’re seeing him peel back.

“Actually Kenji - and everybody,” Sonya begins, “Sara and I have been working on experimenting with the injections Anderson had given to Juliette and the other kids, and they’re dangerous, more dangerous than anything else we’ve worked with. Especially in Ella’s condition, if we decide to use it on her without certainty, it could have drastic effects.” She pauses, and glances toward Sara for validation. She takes a deep breath in. “We’d rather have somebody stronger we can test on, before injecting Ella.

“We’d need a couple of days to experiment with false memories, and then a couple more to see how we can reverse them. Once we do that, we can replicate the same onto Ella, to hopefully get her back. It needs to be somebody who can withstand the injections though.”

Everyone stops breathing for just a second. Nouria dips her head and her eyes dance over the ground, as if she is drawing out plans within her head. She takes a second, and looks up. 

First, she addresses Sonya and Sara. “No matter the outcome of this meeting, we will find someone that is willing to help you out. I will vet our military. If anything, having such an effective drug is great, even if Ella doesn’t end up needing it. 

“Now,” she turns directly to me and meets my eye, “we have two options. We can subject Ella to her previous torture and other memories in the hopes of her remembering, or we can use her effectively, building trust between us. As her fiance, and  _ hopefully _ being of sound mind, we have decided to let you decide, Warner.”

Beside her, Castle sighs while Kishimoto begins to argue. 

“This is  _ not _ okay,” Kishimoto begins, while Nazeera’s eyes widen slightly. “Give us time to-  _ ow _ !” Quickly he pulls a hand up to just above his elbow, where Nazeera pinched him hard to get him to stop. 

Nouria doesn’t seem to notice, instead maintaining eye contact. “Well?”

Everyone turns to look at me, and I clench my fists and straighten my rigid posture. Kishimoto looks at me as if he’s desperately hoping I fold and agree with him. 

I take a deep breath, not quite relishing their suspense.

“I agree with you. Nouria.”


	3. 3

**Kenji**

Fuck this, fuck this,  _ fuck this.  _

I wonder if Warner can feel my rage boiling over, while he stands there coolly, literally sacrificing his  _ fiance _ . It takes all I can and more not to completely obliterate him right there, in front of everybody.  _ Fuck. Him.  _

Nazeera takes my hand and leads me out of the room while my eyes stay on Warner’s absolutely despicable self. I only turn my head back when he’s for sure out of sight, and see that Nazeera has detoured me into the thickest part of the wood. 

Over here, the trees are vastly overgrown, past what The Sanctuary has decided to trim and maintain. Hundreds of weeds sprout from the base of trees, while the dirt is still slightly muddy from the midnight rain. I’m sure that in spring, when the flowers are blooming, it’s gorgeous, but now it’s dull and only makes me angrier.  _ Even the fucking weather is angry, huh? _

“Well,” Nazeera sighs, looking at me, tense but kind, “at least it distracted you for a second.”

“Why’d you bring me here?” I’m shaking. I’m too angry, too angry to be talking to Nazeera, too angry to be in close vicinity to anybody,  _ even _ Warner. I’d kill him. I‘d get  _ very _ close to killing him, if it weren’t for the slim chance that J would wake up and kill me for that.

_If she wakes up._ _If she isn’t shelled out on a suicide mission as a fucking military weapon now._

I gave too much credit to Warner, too much credit to his ‘love’ for Julliette. Clearly, he only loves destruction, and he only loves war. 

“...Hello? Did you hear me?” Shit, I missed whatever Nazeera was saying.

I grit my teeth so I don’t yell. “Sorry, sorry. Can you repeat?”

“I said I brought you out here to scream, yell, punch, whatever you need to do. Rather in this place where nobody can hear you or try to calm you down.”

I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches, “ _ no, Nazeera. _ ”

She steps closer, putting a hand on my wrist. “It’s okay. I’m serious. I do it too, when I had to escape from everything…”

“Nazeera,” I sigh, “I  _ can’t _ . I… I can’t get violent. I’m not that type of person. I don’t want to  _ become _ that type of person again.”

I backpedal, wondering if she’s going to ask. Ask about why I said  _ again _ , and keep asking until I finally cave and tell her, no. I haven’t always been a peacekeeper, I haven’t always been the funny one to mask my anger, that I used to do more with my thoughts of fighting then keep them in my head. I can fight, I can fight for an army, for a team, for my friends. But it’s taken so,  _ so _ long to get my control back. To pacify the anger inside me. And I know, I know this is precisely what will set me off. I know the second I let the anger get the best of me, it will all come rushing back. And then, and then. I’d have to tell her of the trail I left in my wake.

She looks at me though, and instantly I know she understands, and I chuckle.

She blinks once, “what?”

“Nothing,” I say, clenching and unclenching my fists, trying to let the anger slowly drip out of me, “I’m starting to overthink like J used to.” I laugh again.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, Nazeera pulls me into a hug. It’s awkward and forced, and it’s perfect. I squeeze her, tightly, so that she gasps just a little before I drop my grip. 

“Thank you,” I say, “thanks.”

She pulls back and looks at me, and suddenly, I’m overcome. I’m overcome from this fear and anger and love and my beating heartbeat and slowing breath and suddenly I want everything to feel far away, and for the only thing to stay close to be Nazeera. From the way she’s looking at me, I can tell she feels the same. 

“Can I…” I barely get the words out before she pulls my head into hers and our lips are interlocked.

I am overcome. I have felt every single emotion in the past hour and, desperately, as I push myself closer into Nazeera, I want to forget. I want my brain to shut off, stop thinking about Juliette, Warner, Castle’s abandonment of me, the anger I was so quick to let out, the frustration, everything. I want to push it out. I  _ need _ to push it out. 

Suddenly I’m pushing against Nazeera and we’re backed against a tree, and  _ still _ I’m pushing against her, trying to get closer to her and away from everything else.  _ God, _ I could stand to lose myself right here, right with her.

Her hands are under my shirt and my muscles clench at her touch, hot and gentle against my skin. Then, not so gentle as she’s pulling me closer to her, her fingers clawed into me.

I match her, putting one hand under her silky wear while another is on her neck and she makes a soft sound in the back of her throat, while her lips are pushed against mine. 

I respond with a similar sound of my own starting to pull at the hem of her shirt, and she makes another sound, this one sounding more like a grunt, and she pulls away, her arms and lips dropping from me.

We’re both panting hard, and my cheeks feel as flushed as hers look.

“What…” I breathe, “what…”

She takes a couple seconds to get her breath back. “Not… not here. Not right now. Come on, Kenji, we’re not thinking. We’re just… overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed, right…. Overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, exactly. Overwhelmed.” She shifts her gaze from me to the trees, back towards the base. “We should get back….”

I lose what she’s saying, instead completely entranced by her lips. Her gorgeous, perfectly curved and full lips that just a second ago were on mine. They’re still pinker than normal from the pressure, and there’s a thin red line over her cupid’s bow. I blink, once, twice, but they’re still real, still sitting perfectly on top of Nazeera’s perfect face. 

“Kenji.”

“Yeah,” I say, obviously distracted. 

The lips move closer to me, closer to mine. Impossibly close. Then they’re right against mine, and I lean forward to catch them but they pull away.

“Were you listening?” They ask.

“No.” 

A giggle escapes them, and I pull Nazeera’s arms so she comes closer to me. They’re just touching mine now, tickling them.

“Overwhelmed,” they say, and touch mine as they say it.

“Nazeera.” 

“And desperate.”

They peck me, agonizingly quickly, and then pull away fully, until they are reformed with the beautiful Nazeera, and she’s pulling me along with her before I can say another word.

By the time we get back to base, I can barely say goodbye to Nazeera before being separated and whisked away by Sonya and Sara. I look back to Nazeera, but she is caught up with Castle now, Castle who can barely say two words to me.

Sonya holds my wrist in a death grip and is steering me towards the medical wing before stopping just outside the door.

I pant to catch my breath, “yes?”

They stumble over their words. 

“Adam is awake.”

  
  


**Adam**

When I wake up, I can tell something is different. Off. 

I blink my eyes once, twice, in a half awake stupor, before tightly shutting them again. Anderson can’t know I’m awake yet. I could save myself a couple minutes of clear thinking. 

Still, against my shut eyes, the lights seem different, less harsh and warmer. The breeze that’s lightly dancing against my skin is the temperate feeling of the weather we used to have back home, of warm spring days outside. 

I slip into quick memories of early childhood, before my life got all fucked up.

_ Cooking pancakes in the early morning, before my parents had time to wake up and tell me to stop, _

_ Playing tag with friends outside, falling into dewy grass, _

_ Even early life with James, feeding him crackers or whatever else was in the fridge.  _

I reel myself back in. Only a couple minutes before Anderson gets back, and I can’t afford to lose my time to memories that are long gone. He could probably sense that I was awake now, judging by the rise and fall of my heartbeat on the monitor.

Still, even though I heard the shifts of the beeping, nobody has shown up. And I can easily feel that I have considerably less tubes hooked up to my veins. And also- I’m wearing clothes.

So what’s going on...? There’s a shuffle somewhere in the room and I tense, hoping to keep my heart steady.

“Well, good morning,” comes the halfhearted rasp of Warner’s voice. 

I open my eyes. “I…. Hey,” I look around, then become even more confused. “Where am I?”

Warner gives me a grin that doesn’t meet his eyes, then pulls out his hands and gestures around him. “Welcome to The Sanctuary,” he says theatrically, “you’ve been rescued.”

I sit up, take in the small white room, the sink and cabinet, the clean walls and floors. 

I need to say something. “I’m sorry Warner. I didn’t realize what I had done. I can’t even make excuses…. I tried to help James and I fucked up. I really fucked up.”

Warner looks at me and narrows his eyes, “you do realize how much you have though. Fucked up. You were never ‘saved’ from our father, less so James. At least dear old Dad had use for you.”

I widen my eyes. I had really helped  _ nobody _ ? Not even James? “I know I fucked up. I trusted him because he was our father, and I made a mistake. A shitty mistake. Everyone must hate me now too, more than before, even.”

“I assure you, Kent, that there is little out there that I do not hate at the moment. And yes, I assume you would be correct that everyone hates you. Not only that, but there is so much that you need to be informed of, too much for me to even want to begin to get into.”

“What? What don’t I know?”

“I assume Kishimoto would be all but eager to tell you.” He pauses, and gives me a very small, very subtle and probably ironic sympathetic smile. “How are you feeling by the way? On the… on your insides?”

I look at him incredulously, “huh? I feel, I dunno, how anybody would feel after having their entire body being torn apart and examined. Empty, or different, I guess. Why am I even explaining this to you? What are you even doing in my room?”

His lips thin and eyes narrow. He glances towards the room’s side wall before returning my gaze. “To be honest I was not expecting you to be awake. I’d much rather you weren’t, but I guess now that you are some things must be taken care of. I’ll alert the twins, and tell them to get Kishimoto in here, they can do all the explaining. For now I assume you can sit easily with yet another betrayal on your shoulders. The others may be quick to forgive, Kent, but I am most definitely not. You deserve what has come, and what will come. I only hope I get the pleasure of watching it unfold.”

With that glorifying statement, he turns to leave, his footsteps harsh against the ground. Just as he passes the barrier and is pulling the door shut, I stop him.

“Wait!” I cry. He pauses, his hands gripping white against the door and its frame. “James. Is James at least okay? He’s here and he’s safe? You’ll let him know I’m awake?” I’m desperate.

He makes cold eye contact with me, long eye contact, and I can’t exactly decipher it. Then, he turns to leave. 

  
  


Kenji finishes telling me all the updates, and forty-five minutes has passed. If he hates me, he gracefully skips over letting it be known. Instead he is sympathetic and quick, gritting his teeth through the gory details, through the details with Juliette. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t do the same.

“That’s all crazy,” I say, not sure how to respond. I never thought that things could go so awry. Even if I did leave, I meant for them to try to find a way out, a way to protect themselves. Maybe if they’d lost, at least they would be taken prisoner. This somehow feels worse, like they’re all in purgatory. Like  _ we’re _ all in purgatory.

Kenji sucks his teeth, “yeah. But now it’s your turn. We need to know what kinda person Anderson is. What he did to you. It’ll help us understand Juliette too.”

_ Oh.  _ I shouldn’t be surprised. I betrayed them; I shouldn’t expect them to be so selflessly caring about my torture. I look around at the people in the room. 

The twins are standing straight up, both by the doorway, as if blocking me from escape. Whatever. Kenji is sitting back on a dusty cushioned chair, his elbows on his knees and hands clasped tight. Castle and Nouria (Kenji vaguely introduced us) stand close by too, so the room is quite nearly packed.

“I’ll be honest,” I start, “I can’t remember most of it. He had me hooked up to this machine for most of the time and sedated me through the day. I barely got to see anybody but him and this doctor, and they would run tests on me….” I take a second to catch my breath, my heart quickening.

“Go on,” Castle says.

“They would run tests. On me, my body, my powers. They tested how I could turn people’s powers off. They made me do it over and over, every day. It was the only time I wasn’t sedated. Then I was taken back to my room, and they gave me drugs, took my blood, and put me back to sleep.”

I decidedly keep the girl I tested with to myself. It could just be a trick of the mind; the fire girl with black hair, whom I was made to extinguish. Over and over and over and over. 

“Do you know why they needed it?” It’s Sonya who’s speaking, while Sara bites the inside of her cheek. They both look pale.

“Not really. At one point early on they did this, like, transfusion between me and Anderson, I think? He would sit opposite me and my blood would go in this big machine and then to his arm. But after a while, he wouldn’t do that anymore, and they would just constantly be drawing my blood without him.”

“Why would he do that?” Kenji asks.

Sara answers, “I think we know. Anderson did the same to us, he was trying to transfuse our power into himself. To heal himself on his own.”

“Well,” I ask, clenching the bedsheets I’m under, “did it work?”

“I know he could heal himself,” Kenji says, “we saw it multiple times. But when we last fought with him he definitely couldn’t stop our powers.”

“So, what? Now we both have the power of muting? It wouldn’t weaken?” I turn towards Sonya and Sara, but now they are only paler and addressing Kenji. 

“Kenji, could you turn invisible, and Adam,” Sara turns towards me, “try to turn it off.”

I must look incredulous. I want to ask if this is necessary, how the twins could even think I wouldn’t have my powers, why. But, still. Warner asked what I was feeling and I said empty. Is this what I meant? My power, vacated my body, leaving something missing? No way. My power is a part of me. It kept me grounded, gave me the ability to see people as people, without some extraterrestrial shit attached. I saw people as people, as vulnerable beings. I could see Juliette, I could touch her. That part of me couldn’t be gone.

Still, as Kenji turns invisible, I find my powers haven’t done their duty. It feels like my brain is telling them to work, rather than just working. I feel paralyzed, and try to keep my cool as I flush in shame and embarrassment. 

“I…. I can’t.”

Kenji blinks back into the room, and just as quickly moves past Sonya and Sara to exit, as does Castle and Nouria. I think I asked everybody to leave, but I can’t focus on if I spoke or not. I make eye contact with Sonya and Sara and as they move out the way of the doorframe, I see the tiny shape of James, staring wide eyed back at me. 

The door closes, and as soon as it does, I get up. I stretch my underused legs, and clench and unclench every muscle in my body. 

Then, I punch the wall. 


End file.
